


bad decisions made live on philza minecraft's stream (by one wilbur soot)

by Set_Suna



Series: it takes a discord server - SBI & Co. IRL Fics [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, No Beta We Die Like Wilbur in Skyblockle, Self-Worth Issues, Sickfic, Wilbur Soot-centric, what more do you need fhskd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 18:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30025869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Set_Suna/pseuds/Set_Suna
Summary: Okay, Wilbur wasn’t stupid. Ignorant? Maybe. Careless? Perhaps a bit. But that didn’t mean he was irresponsible. He was an adult, he could take care of himself. He knew his limits and when he was pushing them. What he didn’t know was how hard it was going to rain when he went out for a walk this afternoon.
Relationships: TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: it takes a discord server - SBI & Co. IRL Fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184753
Comments: 22
Kudos: 401
Collections: SBI Family Feels





	bad decisions made live on philza minecraft's stream (by one wilbur soot)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [off-day but it's live in front of 70k viewers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27548158) by [qar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/qar/pseuds/qar). 



> Would you look at that we got another Noorah inspired fic (hi Noorah :3) if I am anything I am a sucker for her fics. I honestly don't know how much I like this, but I'm posting it anyways cause I think it's pretty okay. It passes. here ya go

Okay, Wilbur wasn’t stupid. Ignorant? Maybe. Careless? Perhaps a bit. But that didn’t mean he was irresponsible. He was an adult, he could take care of himself. He knew his limits and when he was pushing them. What he didn’t know was how hard it was going to rain when he went out for a walk this afternoon. Hiding under overhangs and in shop doorways didn’t help much at all, so when he found himself caught in the downpour, he held out and speed-walked back to the house. He pulled his coat up around his ears and did his best to not envy the people he passed who were prepared and brought umbrellas. Had he really been in such a hurry to get out of his house that he didn’t bother to check the weather? Not that it mattered now. He was already soaked all the way through.

He stomped up the steps, fumbling for his keys and shoving them into the main front door. He slipped inside as soon as he heard the lock click, shutting out the cold behind him. He shivered, pulling off his soaked coat and dropping it to the floor. He winced, hearing the damp squelch of the wet fabric on the hardwood. He tugged off his boots, stepping out of the range of the slowly forming puddle on his floor. Even his socks were absolutely soaked. This was absolutely terrible. Why didn’t he check the weather? His umbrella was literally right by the door. Oh, how easy it would’ve been to grab it as he left. 

He shook out his hair as he tramped down the steps. He ignored how water droplets sprayed from his head like a wet dog. He pushed into his room, beelining it for the bathroom. He scrounged up a dry towel and took it to his head, scrubbing fiercely. He knew he was shivering, but that wasn’t exactly a bad thing. It meant his body was still functioning properly, so he tossed his towel on his bed and went to his closet. He found a dry sweater and pants and peeled off his damp clothes. He already felt worlds better, now that he was significantly drier. 

Still, a chill wouldn’t leave him alone. He collapsed on his bed, tossing an arm over his eyes. It was still fairly early in the day, nothing would be very pressing until later. He flexed his hand, feeling how cold his fingers were. That’s how you knew you were cold: you felt the temperature difference to the rest of your body. He sighed, rolling over on his side and curling in on himself for some kind of warmth. His room was usually cold, but it was _really_ fucking cold right now. His eyes trailed over to his setup, where his broken window remained unfixed. He groaned, hiding his face in his hands. Well, that answered his question. The material he’d taped over the hole had come loose thanks to the storm, so the top corner flapped in the wind that passed through. 

Well… it didn’t look like any rain water was getting on his setup, so he couldn’t bring himself to care that much. He’d fix it later, just like he’d clean up the puddle of water in the foyer later. Right now, sleep sounded really great. His eyes could barely stay open, anyways. Might as well sleep the chill away. He curled up on himself a bit tighter and shut his eyes, sleep coming easy.

-

Wilbur woke to the vibration of his phone near his stomach. He blinked a few times, attempting to get the sleep-blurriness out of his eyes. He pushed himself up on his arms, brushing off his lightheadedness and sliding his hand across his comforter until it hit his phone. He picked it up, squinting to see who was calling him right now. It was Tommy--of course it was Tommy--who was calling him. It was a Discord call alert, not directly to his phone number, so things were probably fine. He finally checked the time to see it was a little after half past six. Phil was streaming today, so he was already fairly far into it. Tommy was probably trying to add him to their call, or something. Ignoring the alert on his phone, Wilbur slid his legs over the side of his bed to go to his PC.

Standing was a lot worse than he thought it’d be. He leaned forward, catching himself on the wall so he didn’t fall over. His knees were shaky, and none of his thoughts felt like they were connecting. He pressed his chilled fingers to his forehead, sighing in the relief it brought. He could do this. He could make it to his chair without falling over. Keeping one hand on the wall, he dragged himself over. He basically collapsed into it when he got there, but that was okay, because he didn’t have to stand anymore. 

He powered up his PC, hovering his hand over the vent as it began to fan out the warm air. He leaned back, eyes catching on the flapping board pasted to his window. The rain had let up considerably, and was now just a light drizzle. His eyes fell back to his monitor as Discord popped up, multiple red alerts from multiple people and chats. Tommy’s profile picture sat at the top with the most messages, next was Phil’s, then finally was a group DM with just the three of them. He opened the last one, correct in his prediction in that's where they were. He absentmindedly joined the call, using his desk to push himself up and reach for the material on his window. He was resealing it when someone finally noticed he’d joined. 

“Wilbur!” Tommy yelled, making him wince. The sharp pain the noise sent through his skull was fairly strange. He’d gotten used to Tommy’s loud greetings a long time ago.

“Hey mate,” Phil greeted, on the opposite end of the volume spectrum. 

“Hello hello,” he said in a breath, falling back into his chair. 

“You weren’t answering my DMs, so I just called you,” Tommy explained without being asked. 

“I noticed,” Wil replied, lazily clicking open his and Tommy’s DMs. “Dude, you’ve sent me, like, twenty texts. Half of them are the word ‘bitch’.”

Phil laughed, followed up by a lighthearted, “You sound tired, you feelin’ alright?”

“Yeah, just woke up from a nap,” Wilbur mumbled. “The child dragged me here.”

“Well, you didn’t _have_ to join,” Tommy exaggerated. “You could’ve ignored me and kept on sleeping.”

“Had to get up,” Wilbur replied shortly. “The board on my window fuckin’ came off. Room’s cold as shit.”

“You still haven’t gotten that fixed?” Phil asked incredulously. 

“Too much of a hassle,” Wilbur answered, opening up Phil’s stream. “That coral is still fucking disgusting.”

“I have decided to ignore all your opinions on the coral, thank you very much,” Phil chirped. 

“I like it,” Tommy announced matter-of-factly.

“Suck up,” Wilbur grumbled, resting his head in his arms. 

“I’m _not_ sucking up! It’s my genuine opinion!” Tommy exclaimed over Phil’s laughter.

Wilbur muffled a groan in his arms. His head was spinning. It fucking _hurt._ He was starting to have the sneaking suspicion he’d gotten sick. But he was responsible. He was an adult who could take care of himself. He could handle it on his own. At least, he thought he could. No one else was home this weekend, so he’d be on his own anyways. 

“Wil? You there mate?” Phil’s voice questioned.

He hummed in response, nestling his face a little deeper in his arms. He wanted to sleep again. Would it be too much of a bother for him to sleep on Phil’s stream?

“Wilbur,” Tommy started, “you sound like a microwave.”

“If I was a microwave, I would sound a lot more like a _brrrrr_ sound, y’know?” he mumbled, words leaving his mouth before he bothered to think. “More droning and just plain horrible sounding.”

Tommy cackled, sending another spike of pain through his temples. “What did microwaves do to you, man?”

“Radiated my family,” Wilbur answered instantly, words slurring together. “Can’t visit their graves. Too radioactive.” 

“Oh my god,” Phil chuckled. “Are you sure you’re okay? What did you do today?”

“Took a walk,” Wilbur muttered, lifting his head and wincing at the light from his monitor. “God, its fuckin’ bright.”

“Didn’t it rain a shit ton where you are?” Phil questioned further, and Wilbur watched him stare suspiciously at his camera. 

“Yeah, I got real good and wet,” Wilbur replied much too easily. He reached up and patted his head. “My hair’s still damp, actually.”

“Is he sick?” Tommy asked, almost knowingly. “He’s sick, isn’t he?”

“This seems… way too familiar,” Phil sighed. 

The longer he kept his head up, the greater a feeling of nausea grew. The world was already spinning, and the lights and noise weren’t helping. He rubbed at his eyes and announced, “I’m gonna get some… I don’t know. Medicine.”

“Can you make it up the stairs?” Phil asked like he already knew the answer.

Ironically, Wilbur didn’t get the chance to answer him. As he stood and twisted away from his setup, his legs didn’t want to support his weight. He stopped using his chair and desk as a support, blinked, and was on the floor. He could vaguely hear Phil and Tommy from his headphones, but no part of his body wanted to move. He let out a breath and shut his eyes. It was much better on the floor, he thought. There was no sound of talking or Phil’s stream or lights from his monitor. It was still cold, though. ...Eh, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. His eyes wouldn’t stay open, no matter how hard he tried, and the last thing he saw was Phil’s stream going black. 

-

Tommy jumped in his chair, hearing a loud _thud_ come from Wilbur’s end. Not that he was proud of it, but Tommy’d had his fair share of experiences with being sick. He thought he could recognize the symptoms by now. And Wilbur was displaying a lot of them. He looked away from their Discord chat and to Phil’s stream. He’d paused Minecraft and his eyes on his other monitor, looking just about as worried as Tommy felt. His chat was flying by at the speed of light, he could barely read the few messages he did see.

_UHH WILBUR???_

_is will drunk lmao_

_DADZA CONTROL YOUR SON_

_did Wilbur just die_

“Wil?” Phil asked. “Are you there, mate?”

When there wasn’t a response, Tommy tried, louder. “Wilbur! Fuckin’ answer if you can hear us!”

Again, they were met with silence. Tommy couldn’t believe Wilbur had actually made it away from his desk. That thud sounded too loud and nothing like a door closing. He felt his breath catch in his throat. If he was actually as sick as they thought-

“Don’t tell me he just fuckin’ collapsed,” Tommy muttered. “Phil.”

“I know,” Phil responded. “I’m ending my stream.”

Tommy groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “You have to be kidding me.”

“He’s alone right now, isn’t he? He said his housemates were gone this weekend?” Phil questioned.

“Yeah,” Tommy moaned. He rubbed his hands down his face, staring at the call, hoping the green circle would light up around Wilbur’s profile picture. “How many viewers did you have?”

“I have no idea, and it can wait until later. I’m gonna head over there,” Phil dismissed the question, and Tommy could hear rustling on his end. 

“I can’t just fuckin’ sit here,” Tommy stated, making a decision then and there. “I’m meeting you there, Phil.”

“Yeah, that’s what I assumed,” Phil sighed. “Just bundle up and _bring an umbrella.”_

“Yeah, yeah, see you in a bit, Phil,” Tommy replied quickly. 

“See you in a bit.”

The Discord disconnect noise always felt a little disheartening, and right now it definitely felt imposing. Tommy pushed himself away from his desk, quickly shutting off his PC and hopping to his feet. He was way too anxious to sit and wait for news from Phil. He grabbed his phone off his desk and tossed his headset on his chair. If he wanted to get there even close to the same time as Phil, he’d have to leave now, because he’d have to walk. His parents had gone out for dinner, and even if they hadn’t they probably wouldn’t have driven him in the rain. 

He hurried down the stairs, hand gripped in one hand, the other held out for balance. He plugged his headphones into the jack as he slipped into the kitchen. He’d leave a note telling them where he went out of the kindness of his heart, even though he couldn’t be sure they’d bother reading it. He forced on his shoes and tugged on his coat, following Phil’s request because it would be very lame if he got sick going to see how sick Wilbur was. He grabbed an umbrella from beside the door and headed out. 

Once he was moving, listening to the rain pelt against his umbrella, he shoved his headphones in his ears. He knew it wasn’t likely, but he joined back into the call they’d just left. Wilbur was still there, mic unmuted, just as he was five minutes ago. He couldn’t help but be worried. Thinking of all the times Wilbur came to his aid when he was sick gave him a strange feeling of deja vu. Like this was supposed to be the other way around. It usually was.

“Wil?” he tried weakly. 

He waited, and waited, and waited… but there was no response. He sighed, tightening his grip on his phone. 

“I’m gonna kill you when I get there,” he mumbled, settling in with his anxiety for the walk.

-

Wilbur woke up slowly. The first thing that registered was that he was _hot._ Uncomfortably so. His sweater felt too heavy and sweat had built up on the back of his neck. He wasn’t lying flat on the floor anymore, he was leaning on something. Someone. There was a hand pressed to his forehead and its chill felt really damn good. He hung his head forward, chasing the feeling as it left. The hand returned, brushing the hair from his face. 

“You awake, mate?” Phil’s voice asked.

Wilbur made a noise of acknowledgement, nodding his head slightly. He mumbled, “You didn’t have to come.”

“I think I did,” Phil answered. “You were alone and you collapsed because you’re so sick, no way I _wasn’t_ coming.” 

“It’s just a cold, I could’ve handled it,” Wilbur argued, lack of energy making his words slur together. 

Phil chuckled. “Yeah, sure. Think you can stand?”

Wilbur nodded, at least wanting to try. He let Phil wrap one of his arms around his waist and help hoist him up. He tried to use his legs as much as he could. He already felt bad, passing out on Phil’s stream, now the man had driven all the way here to take care of him. He was supposed to be able to take care of himself, be an adult and not such a… disappointment. 

Phil helped him to his bed, where he was promptly shoved down and forced under the covers. The man put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, smiling down at him.

“I’ll get that medicine and some water, try to stay awake, alright?” he requested.

Feeling his face start to flush, Wilbur just threw an arm over his face and just nodded with a hum. When he couldn’t hear Phil’s footsteps anymore, he let out a sigh. He felt like _shit,_ outside of the fever. It was so stupid of him, letting himself get so sick so quickly. He’d dragged Phil into his miserable little problem when he should have been able to prevent it from ever happening. Now he was here, having to be taken care of because he’d ruined the day. 

He slid his arm away from his face when he heard Phil come back. He pushed himself up to sit against his headboard. He popped the pills given to him and downed them with water. It made him realize how dry his throat was, for one thing. He really hadn’t drank water in a while. 

“You up for surprises?” Phil asked, continuing when Wilbur gave him a confused look. “Someone couldn’t stay away, hope you don’t mind.”

As if in response to Phil’s statement, Tommy appeared in his doorway, lazily attempting to fix his hair. He said, “There, I’m dry, what now-?” He stopped, noticing Wilbur awake and staring at him. Wil smiled when Tommy awkwardly continued, “Oh. Hey, Wil.” Tommy paused again, blinked, and gained back his usual energy. “Wait, I’m mad at you, why the hell didn’t you just tell us you were sick?!”

Wilbur grimaced, holding his glass a bit tighter. He shrugged limply, staring down at his hands. “Wasn’t s’posed to be this big of a problem.”

He felt gross as soon as he said it. Physically, a wave of nausea washed over him, emotionally, he felt guilty. They were just worried about him. Why couldn’t he let them care about him and not be such an asshole? 

His bed suddenly sunk lower, making him look up to see Tommy sitting beside him. He pressed his shoulder to Wilbur’s, staring at their feet. Wilbur leaned into him, liking the touch more than he was willing to admit. 

“You made me worried, dickhead,” Tommy mumbled, resting his head on Wilbur’s shoulder. 

Wilbur sighed, guilt threading significantly deeper. “‘M sorry… thought I could handle it on my own.”

“You don’t have to,” Tommy said plainly, knocking his feet against his. “You always tell me that, so the same should go for you.”

If asked later, Wilbur would blame what happened next on being delirious with fever. He threw his arms around Tommy and pulled him into a hug, more emotional and desperate than he had been in a long time. He hid his face in Tommy’s hair, exhaling shakily. This kid really was his best friend. His eyes began to water as he felt Tommy wrap his arms around him in return. 

“I don’t deserve you,” he mumbled, voice thick.

“Eh, I think you do,” Tommy responded quietly. “You have me anyways.”

He didn’t bother looking up when he heard Phil chuckle. He stepped into their moment to say, “Go back to sleep for a bit, Wil. I’ll find something for dinner and do some crowd control.”

“How many viewers did you have?” Tommy asked warily, leaning his head around Wilbur’s shoulder.

“Uh,” Phil hesitated, “just about 60,000. No biggie.” 

Wilbur groaned, tilting his head back to look up at Phil. He whined, “I’m _sorry.”_

“It’s fine, mate,” Phil laughed, reaching out to tousle his hair. “If anything, people are just worried. You’ll be getting thousands of well wishes in no time.”

“But I ruined your stream,” Wilbur pouted, leaning back forward onto Tommy.

“I really don’t care. Your health is more important to me than one stream,” Phil told him, smiling warmly. “Now stop worrying about it and get some rest.”

Wilbur made a noise of protest, but he was basically half asleep already. Tommy was a nicer pillow than expected. This arrangement was usually the other way around, experiencing the opposite made his chest feel warm. 

“You’re so clingy,” Tommy laughed. “Fuckin’ lay on your bed, not me.”

“But you’re comfy,” Wilbur grumbled, not arguing as he was shoved off. 

“Don’t care,” Tommy shot him down. “What, y’think I’m goin’ somewhere?”

Wilbur shrugged as he dug himself into his sheets. “Guess not.”

His bed was a lot more comfy than he usually thought it was. Maybe it was because he was already warm or the cold medicine was making him drowsy, but he liked it. He opened his eyes briefly, glancing up at Tommy. His expression was pensive, staring down at his hands while he wiggled his foot restlessly. It clicked in Wilbur’s slow, sick brain: he was worried. Of course he was. He reached out a hand, taking one of Tommy’s and interlocking their fingers. 

“I’ll be fine,” he mumbled. “Stop being all worried, you’ll make me cry.”

Tommy chuckled, squeezing his hand. “You deserve it.”

“You’re so…” Yawn. “...mean.” 

“It’s my job, as your brother.”

Wilbur giggled, tugging Tommy’s hand to his chest. “Really, I’ll do it.”

“You’ll fall asleep before then.”

Wilbur hummed, inadvertently proving him right. He didn’t care, though. He’d just been schooled by his sixteen year old little brother. He should practice what he preached, he guessed. Phil and Tommy cared about him. That fact wasn’t going to change. He didn’t have the energy or brain capacity to analyze his mental health right now. He’d been barely hanging on to consciousness for a while now, so he finally let sleep take him.

-

**Ph1lza** _@Ph1lza ⋅ 24m_

Wilbur’s not dead lol he’s just sleeping

**TommyInnit ✓** _@tommyinnit ⋅ 19m  
replying to @Ph1lza ___

__LMAO SICK BITCH_ _

**Author's Note:**

> the last bit is my favorite part lmao
> 
> I appreciate any and all comments/kudos/bookmarks you choose to leave! 
> 
> You can follow my [tumblr](https://quibbels.tumblr.com/) for fic updates and my [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/quiblii) to see more stuff from me!


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